Laughing Angel
by Sunburned-Stickperson
Summary: With power comes knowledge, and with knowledge comes curiosity. Those Who Came Before experimented on humans to perfect the art of flight, and some lineages retained the ability of flight.


**Wing!Kink. ...Desmond style.**

* * *

><p>"You're going to get fat eating all of that. What are you, pregnant?"<p>

Desmond blinked and scowled, his hands trembling slightly as he unwrapped the burger. He didn't dignify Shaun's snark with a response, just fumbled with the package and took a bite. He hadn't kept breakfast down, and he hadn't kept lunch down. He was starving. Desmond had waken not feeling well: slightly dizzy, a little nauseated, and tired. Lucy recommended he stay out of the Animus for the day. The others didn't know he wasn't keeping down food. He grunted as he sat.

"My back hurts," he muttered, knowing exactly what the response would be.

"You're on your period. Great," Shaun said, leaning back in his chair and staring at him over the top of his glasses.

"Let me see," Lucy said, walking over from her computer.

He had all ready taken off his shirt for her to look at him as he fought to swallow the bite of burger. He felt her hands touch his lower back, and any other time, he'd flirt with her, but he felt so crappy. Her hands jumped from his lower back to his shoulder blades.

"You've got a bump on either shoulder blade."

He snarled and jumped up when she pressed down on them, and he fell to his knees, heaving up what little of the burger he had eaten.

"Desmond!"

He was trembling as he wretched the burger and quite a bit of stomach acid onto the floor. Lucy was by his side, helping him over to the sleeping bags and cleaning him off. He fell asleep shortly after.

He woke feeling slightly better, sleeping on his stomach. His shoulders hurt badly. With a lot of difficulty, Desmond got up and padded over to the Animus to lie down. It was more comfortable, and he lay on his stomach and closed his eyes without worry. He heard Shaun approach.

"You look like shit, mate."

He grunted.

"The girls went out to get you some pain killers and medicine."

He grunted, surprised when a warm blanket draped over him.

"Those bumps have gotten worse in the two days you've been asleep. Increased exponentially."

"Two?"

Desmond couldn't find it in himself to care about the bumps. The fact that he had been out for two days made his sluggish mind churn like a swamp. He shivered when Shaun's fingers lightly ran over the bumps. They felt bigger. His hands were soft from a lack of fieldwork, and they felt nice stroking the area.

"Yes, we tried to wake you after the first twenty-four hours, but you slept like the dead. Lucy's called a doctor to come operate. She thinks this is some kind of mutant parasite."

He whined when Shaun's hands left his back, and he heard the man chuckle. Those hands returned, lightly stroking the bumps, and he sighed, content. If only he could think straight.

"However, if you're enjoying the touches, I doubt this is a parasite."

He hummed, letting those fingers rub gently over the bumps.

"What they are, though, is the question."

When the fingers pressed slightly, he growled, and Shaun started rubbing them again. He shuddered, sighing again at the feeling. He could feel weight on his shoulder blades that moved slightly as Shaun rubbed them. When the historian started scratching lightly, he hummed. Shaun jumped.

"They moved!"

Desmond looked toward the man. "What?"

"They moved! Perhaps Lucy was right!"

Shaun slowly crept over and placed his hand along the lumps. Desmond looked over his shoulder at the man, tensing up.

"Oh, oh, mm, they didn't like that. They moved."

Desmond was beginning to panic, his blurry thoughts making it worse. "You really think that they're parasites?"

"Just relax, Des."

"Relax! When there's living organisms inside me?"

"Shh… They don't like it when you tense. Why don't you relax?"

He fought against himself valiantly, and slowly, he forced his muscles to relax. His thoughts were gray and fuzzy, mixing together to and slowing him down.

"There we go. They seem to be better now. If they're parasites, what are they eating?"

"Eating?"

"Parasites have to eat something… but you're not having any bone loss or muscle deterioration. You've been a little woozy, but not woozy enough to merit blood loss."

Desmond blinked. He looked at Shaun over his shoulder, who was staring at the bumps with his hands over them.

"Perhaps they aren't parasites. You should be experiencing some sort of loss at this point."

Desmond watched him absently, and when Shaun noticed his gaze, he pursed his lips.

"I wouldn't worry, Desmond. I don't think they're parasites."

The newer assassin blinked, then settled back down on the Animus. He felt Shaun tuck the blanket around him, and he closed his eyes for a couple minutes before the tempting smell of food hit his nose. He opened his eyes to see Shaun sitting there, cross-legged, with a spoon in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other. Desmond's stomach growled loudly. Shaun chuckled and dipped the spoon in.

"All right now, you big baby, thanks to your atrocious table manners, you aren't allowed to feed yourself until you get better. It's clear you can't stomach anything, and Lucy put me on feeding duty for right now. So suck it up and don't whine."

He scowled but let Shaun feed him, only registering that Shaun had food, and he wasn't giving it to him. He was greedy for the rest of the bowl, and Shaun commented he was like a baby bird with his huge mouth gaping open so wide. He didn't argue, just eagerly waited for the next bite. When the bowl of (chicken noodle, from the aftertaste) soup was gone, he licked his lips.

"More?"

"Fatass."

He watched the man walk off, and Desmond realized for the first time, he wasn't suffering from any Bleeding Effect. He moved his shoulders again and winced. They hurt. Finally, Shaun came back, and they went through three more bowls before he was satisfied. He nestled into the blanket and promptly passed out.

When he came to again, he had Lucy sitting in front of him.

"Hey, Des, how are you?"

He tried to grunt, but he shifted his shoulders and cried out in pain. His thoughts were just as sluggish as before.

"Shhhhh… Don't move. Desmond, I have a doctor here to see you."

"How long… asleep?"

"Just a day."

His stomach growled, and he winced. His shoulders were throbbing.

"Hey, Des, I got your food!" Rebecca said as she nudged Lucy out of the chair and sat, lifting the spoon to his mouth.

He felt so pathetic having to be spoon-fed. He couldn't even move his arms it hurt so bad, and lying on his stomach was killing him. At least he was in the Animus chair, which had been adjusted to lie straight. It was more comfortable than the sleeping bag.

"Lucy, I don't think it's a parasite."

He didn't bother looking at Shaun as he opened his mouth for the next bite.

"How adorable!" Rebecca said as she gave him the food.

He scowled. "Food."

She laughed and continued as Lucy and Shaun talked. He hummed around the spoon when he felt Shaun's hands on the bumps. He closed his eyes when the historian started gently stroking them, applying just enough pressure.

"I think it's an effect of the Apple. They just keep getting bigger and bigger, Lucy. They're twice the size of yesterday."

Desmond squirmed under Shaun's hands as they moved up and down his back. The pressure felt nice, and he could feel the things move with the hands. They didn't feel like animals, and he wiggled slightly. When there was pressure on them, they didn't hurt so bad.

"Perhaps the doctor should only open the skin. All the stretching of the skin is probably what's making this as bad as it is."

Desmond froze. "Surgery? Here?"

"That's what we're thinking, Des," Lucy said. "It's hurting you, and we're losing time."

Desmond cringed, causing him to flinch and whimper at the pain. Shaun started moving his hands again to try to soothe him.

"Honestly, this is just freaking weird. I feel like I'm in Doctor Who or something."

He had all ready gone through a bowl and a half of food. The nausea returned slightly, and with a belly full of warm soup, he found himself lulled into a stupor, shortly after, into sleep.

Desmond woke screaming. His mind was fuzzy from the pain as he thrashed. His back hurt as if he were being torn apart. He screamed again and tried to roll over, but found his legs pinned to the Animus. He screamed bloody murder as he kicked as hard as he could.

"Calm down, mate! What the fuck is going on?"

He didn't want to hear that, and thrashed when he felt someone pin his arms.

"Desmond? Desmond, listen to me!"

He cried out, screaming as he tried to roll onto his back to put pressure on the pain.

"Knock him out, damnit!"

His back was warm and wet, and he shrieked when he felt someone touch it. He screamed, crying as felt something soft, warm, and sticky wet graze his skin. He twisted and strained against the hands, and eventually found himself falling from the chair he was on. He heard something snap, felt incredible pain, and blacked out.

When he woke up, his entire body was thrumming with pain and heat, and he felt like was dying. He tried to speak, and it came out a voiceless breath. He couldn't move his arms. His back was burning. He saw something move in his blurry vision, and he tried calling out to it. It must have heard him because it stopped. It spoke something, and he tried to tell it he was in pain, but it touched his back, and he shrieked. He squirmed, trying to get away from the thing. His back hurt. He wanted relief. When something pricked his neck, he soon found himself in blissful black.

He had vague and hazy visions of pain and tubes for the next few times. There were voices and machines, but it never registered. The pain seemed to numb him completely.

When he fully came to, he felt slightly better. His back didn't hurt so bad; he could move his arms, and the thing he was on was soft. He buried his hands under the pillow, wincing slightly at the small amount of pain that radiated from his shoulders to the rest of his body. He pressed his nose against the pillow and inhaled. He could feel the sheets tucked around his waist, and he reached down to pull them up. He was cold. He frowned when he felt Shaun's hand on his lower back.

"Desmond, you evolved like those Pokémon. We need you to hold still."

"What?" he rasped, opening his eyes to see concerned brown eyes looking at him.

His gaze flickered to the rest of the room, and he realized he was in a hospital room. He grunted and tugged at the sheets again.

"Desmond, I'm not joshing you. You grew wings. Those lumps of yours were wings."

The newer assassin blinked, waiting for Shaun to tell him he was joking. "Wings?"

"Yes, wings."

"And you're not freaked out about this?"

"Well…" Shaun looked away. "You fucking scared the shit out of all of us. First, your wings pop out in a bloody mess, in both senses. There was blood everywhere, and you were fighting us at every touch. Then, you rolled off the Animus and fucking broke one of your wings. You blacked out, your wounds became infected, and eventually, we had to take you to a hospital for fear of losing you."

Desmond raised an eyebrow.

"In other words, I'm still not entirely sure this is happening. I feel like I'm in Supernatural or something."

Desmond grunted and placed a hand on either side of him, pushing himself up and trying not to black out from the pain.

"Desmond! Don't do that!"

He shook off the hand and plopped backwards, facing the head of the bed as he crossed his legs. His arms hurt like an iron brand, but it felt nice to be able to hunch forward and crack his neck. He saw Lucy to his left and Shaun and Rebecca to his right.

"Hey," Rebecca said, and Desmond nodded.

He twisted his head and jumped when he saw two large, white projections from his back. He reached backward, gritting his teeth at the pain and touched the feathers. His eyes grew wide at how soft they were. When he felt something else touch it, he hissed and turned to it, wincing as he hit Lucy in the face with the wings.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, Des. I know you don't know how to work your… wings… yet."

"That sounds really weird."

"It looks really weird."

He listened with half a mind to the three banter as he stretched slowly. He didn't have much of a range, but it was enough to feel like Heaven after being on his stomach for so long. A thought crossed his mind.

"Why did I grow wings?"

Silence fell over the room, and eventually, Lucy spoke. "Well, we think it has something to do with Those Who Came Before and your lineage."

He blinked. "And why aren't I attached to any tubing?"

"Because you're well enough. You were eating on your own and using the bathroom—"

"I don't remember any of that."

"Probably for the better," Shaun said.

He could feel their eyes fixed on his wings—his wings. It didn't sound right. His wings, on his back, that were real, and attached, and worked, he had wings.

"I have wings."

There was silence, then, "Yes."

"I feel like an idiot saying that."

"You are an idiot."

"Thanks, Shaun, for being supportive."

"No problem, freak."

"I can't admit it to myself. It sounds too damn weird. 'I have wings' should not be coming out of my mouth."

"I'm still trying to gasp that fact, thank you," Shaun snipped.

"It's gotta be easier for us then him. I mean, think about it. We've seen some weird shit with our adventures, but now it's actually happening to Desmond," Rebecca said.

"I have wings."

"You've told us that, pillock. Are you going to keep saying that?"

Desmond scowled at him as he felt the wings flap idly. "Yes, until I believe it. I. Have. Wings."

"I think you look like an angel," Rebecca said. "It's cool."

Desmond sighed. "I have wings. That flap."

"I bet if we worked enough with him, he could fly," she said.

"She's right," Lucy said. "I bet you could fly."

He blinked at the wall as the doctor came in.

"You're awake."

He barely acknowledged the man. He could feel the wings on his back, and he had to admit that it wasn't entirely a bad feel. He could feel them unfold and refold against his back, and he wondered if he'd ever be able to sleep on his back again. Although, he was enjoying the feel of moving his wings—his wings, would he ever get used to that?—back and forth in a simple movement. He liked the soft brush of the feathers against his skin, and the weight of them on his back. He could feel the muscles stretch and the skin move with every flap, but it felt nice. And the best part was he didn't wake to a bed pan and lots of tubing.

Gritting his teeth, he decided he needed to stretch, and he wished for a brief moment that the wings would vanish.

"Oh my God!" Lucy gasped, and Desmond looked at her as he got on his hands and knees to stretch.

"What? The fact that I have wings?"

"The fact that they just vanished, mate," Shaun said, and he was more than pleased to find the man a little spooked.

He groaned as he sat on his knees and stretched his arms out in front of him.

"Where'd they go?"

"This is probably the weirdest case I've ever seen."

He grunted as he sat up and brought his arms out to the side, bending them in and out before raising them over his head and bending them behind his head. With another grunt, he let his arms fall at his sides, and he shook like a dog.

"Fuck!"

He looked to Rebecca.

"They reappeared!"

He tried climbing out of the bed, only to be stopped by the doctor. "Not yet, Desmond."

Desmond scowled. "I'll kill you if you don't let me stand."

The doctor backed off a step, and he climbed out, shaking again when he rose. The wings flapped and stretched as he shook, and damn it all, it felt good. "I'm feeling pretty good, doc. When can I go?"

"I can't believe it. He has no memory of the past few weeks?"

"None. And now he's not feeling any pain—"

"I didn't say that," Desmond growled. "I'm just feeling pretty good. There's not nearly as much pain as when they first popped out."

He crossed his legs at the ankles and bent over, letting his arms dangle. It had never felt so good to stretch. The wings on his back were extended, and he could feel the air move around them as they stretched out.

"Bloody huge."

He placed his hands on his ass and bent his back, listening to his stiff muscles groan and his achy spine pop and crack. He sighed, sitting back down on his butt.

"This is too weird."

He carefully leaned back on his elbows, his eyes widening at the soft touch of the sheets against his wings. He bit his lip to stifle a moan at the wonderful feeling as he lowered himself down. He could feel the sheets against his wings, and they were sensitive enough that it felt great. The pressure from his weight and the feel of the sheets was incredible.

"He looks like he might orgasm or something—"

"Rebecca!"

"I mean, look at him! You'd think he's in Heaven or something, just lying there!"

"Heaven?" he heard Shaun mutter. After a brief moment of silence, "Do you think the 'angels' were actually assassins?"

Desmond grabbed the edge of the sheets and wrapped himself in them, his eyes fluttering closed as he rolled back on his stomach. He could get used to the wings.

"I… don't know…"

"It would makes sense," the doctor said, "but I thought Jesus was a templar?"

"Maybe we were wrong," Shaun said.

Desmond curled into a ball, satisfied. It felt good. He jolted awake a few hours later. His clothes were at the end of his bed, and after he detangled himself from the sheets, he shimmied into his pants and held up his new shirt. He wondered how he would get it on with his wings, and rocked up on his toes when he felt his wings vanish. He blinked, wondering how it happened before he pulled the black muscle tee on. He turned when he heard footsteps. The doctor was in the doorway.

"The others are waiting for you downstairs."

"Just outta curiosity, are you an assassin?"

"This is an assassin-run hospital. Most hospitals are."

He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching over as he walked from the room. He paced down the halls, yawning. He was still tired, even after sleeping so much. When he eventually arrived in the lobby, he saw Lucy standing by the receptionist. He smiled as he walked over.

"You look like you didn't just grow a set of wings."

He leaned in and kissed her, unable to control his impulse. She pulled back.

"D-Desmond?"

He smiled before pacing to the door. "Is the van outside?"

"I—yes, yes, it is."

He walked out without looking back. He was feeling pretty damn good. He looked around briefly before he found it, and he padded over, opening the back and hopping in.

"You're awake," Rebecca said. "Wanna fry?"

He saw a carton of McDonald's fries in her hand, and he reached out and snagged a few. "Thanks."

"No prob."

"And how are you feeling, freak?"

Desmond scowled at Shaun. "I'm feeling pretty damn great."

"Well, that's reassuring. We've decided that we're going farther back in the Animus next time."

"To where?"

"To the announcement of Jesus' birth."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to check if you're related to an angel, and this is the first place to go."

"Why?"

"Because Gabriel is the first of the archangels I remembered. So we're checking him first!" Shaun spat.

"Okay," Desmond said as he popped one of the fries in his mouth and chewed.

He heard the back of the van close and took off his shirt, letting his wings pop out. He shifted in his seat—metal didn't feel so great against his wings. He chuckled at Shaun's surprised expression, and Rebecca got on her hands and knees, reaching toward the wings.

"Can I touch them?"

"Sure."

"Here, you can have my fries in return."

Desmond grinned and snatched the fries. "Go ahead. Feel them all you like."

With a little difficulty, he turned around, stretching the wings out once. He stiffened when he felt her hands on them.

"Wow… these are soft!"

When she moved her hands to pet the wings, he gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes closed.

"This is surreal," he heard Shaun say right before a second pair of hands touched the feathers.

His breath hitched, and his grip on the fries tightened as they pet the wings. Shit, they were sensitive.

"Desmond?" he heard Rebecca say.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a soft moan when he felt Shaun press the wing gently between his hands. He could hear Shaun smirk.

"This could be fun, Rebecca. His wings appear to be extremely sensitive."

He gasped when he felt nails rake through the feathers.

"And we'll have to groom him."

He could hear Rebecca grin. "You're right. This is gonna be fun."

"Our freaky little angel boy has super sensitive wings."

He growled, but it turned into a low groan as Rebecca and Shaun gently pet the feathers, running their fingers through them, and he could feel their every move, and it felt fucking good. His entire body jerked when he felt a hand on his bare skin. A firm chest and a low whisper in his ear soon replaced that hand.

"We know you want Lucy, Desmond, but there's a problem with that."

He jumped when he felt Rebecca slide a hand up his leg.

"W-what?"

"She's all ready ours, angel boy."

The wings disappeared, and he turned to scowl at the other two.

"If you want her, you get all three of us. We're a packaged deal."

"It'd be fun with four of us at night!" Rebecca said as Shaun moved back, smirking like the rat bastard he was.

Desmond frowned. "All… three of us?"

"That's right, mate. The three of us are currently in a relationship, but I think we could make an exception for something as—"

"Heavenly, gorgeous, angelic—"

"As you."

Desmond covered his face with his hands. "These angel jokes are never gonna end, are they?"

"Nope!" Rebecca chirped, laughing. "Now give us back your wings. I gave you my fries."

He frowned. "I don't think it should count." He popped a few fries in his mouth. "Especially because it—"

He gasped, his back arching when he felt fingers scratching at where the wings came from. He heard Shaun laugh behind him as he rolled his shoulders when a second hand joined the first.

"Yes, Rebecca, this is going to be a lot of fun."

By the time they had returned to the hide out, Desmond was on his stomach, his wings out as he succumbed to Shaun and Rebecca stroking them.

"What is going on?" Lucy asked.

Desmond mumbled something incoherent and gasped when Shaun pressed the wings between his hands and tugged it slightly.

"You should come torment him, Lucy. It's fun, and the freak is enjoying it."

"What?"

"His wings are super sensitive!" Rebecca said, laughing as she ran her fingers through the feathers. "And the feathers are really soft!"

"He's like putty. Watch."

Shaun let go, and Rebecca stopped, earning a whine from Desmond.

"Oh, man up, Angelica—"

"I'm not Ang—"

It was broken by a low rumble when Shaun scratched at the base of the wings. He could hear Lucy laugh as she hopped in the truck and crouched behind him.

"Looks like we're going to have to work with him. They're going to be a big weakness for him."

"For all of us," Rebecca said, and Desmond squirmed when he felt Lucy's hands touch the feathers.

"My God! They're so soft!"

"I told you!" Rebecca said. "They'll be a weakness for all of us! I know I could just sit here and pet him all day."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind that," Shaun said.

Desmond squirmed under the touch. It was several hours before they relented and let him up. He immediately jumped from the truck and ran to the hide out, scrabbling up the wall and crouching.

"Not fair, you guys."

Shaun walked over, pushing his glasses up his nose. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at him. "It's perfectly fair."

"No, it's not." He stuck his tongue out as his wings flapped several times. "I hate all of you."

"Well, I don't care if you hate us or not. Get down here so we can plug you into the Animus."

He scowled. "I just got out of the—"

"Desmond," Lucy began, "we've lost two months."

He scowled and jumped from the roof, tucking his legs in for impact, and Lucy frowned. He grunted when his wings caught in the air, and he waited as he glided down to the ground.

"Awesome!" Rebecca yelled. "Can you fly?"

Desmond looked at her, blinking. "I don't think so. I honestly forgot that I had them out."

"I bet if we plugged you into the Animus," Shaun said as he pushed the winged man inside, "we could see if you're related to the angel. Then through Bleeding Effect, you could learn to fly. Let's go. Time's a-wastin'."

Desmond's wings disappeared as he was strong-armed into lying down and plugging in.

"Okay… No, further back, Rebecca. We want B.C."

He squirmed. He didn't want to do this again so soon. He waited patiently, ignoring their banter as he waited for the memory to start up. He waited, and waited, and waited, and just when he was about to complain, it connected, and he watched as the memory flickered in and out. He saw a young woman—a girl, really—kneeling in her home.

"Stay together, Desmond!" He heard Rebecca shout. "I know it's hard, but we need you to. This is a seriously old memory, so try your best!"

She looked startled at his appearance. They were speaking some language he couldn't understand.

"Bloody fucking Hell, loves!"

He jumped at Shaun's shout. The memory fizzled, and he struggled to stay connected.

"That's Gabriel! Desmond's related to the archangel Gabriel!"

"How can you tell?"

"Because that's Mary, mother of Jesus! They're speaking Hebrew! I studied it at the University!"

Desmond twitched in the Animus chair, the feel of wings surprising him.

"Gabriel! I can't bloody believe this!"

He could hear Shaun's hysterics over the memory. He couldn't properly sync, anyway, since the memory was so far back, but, he could officially claim that his ancestor told Mary about the birth of Jesus. When he was finally allowed out of the Animus, he shook his head and looked at Shaun.

"I thought Jesus was a Templar."

There was silence for the longest time as he looked between the three of them. His gaze flickered back to Shaun, who was grinning like a cat who got the cream.

"Then we'll just have to see all of the memories, now, won't we, Angelica?"

"Shaun, we really don't have the time to waste on tri—"

"Don't you dare say it, Lucy. Don't you dare. This is the very foundation of the Catholic religion, the guise that the Templars built their Crusades and fabrication upon! This—this!—is true history. We need to continue this."

Desmond looked at Lucy, who looked as if she were getting mad.

"I think we should. Then I can tell all my snowboarding buddies back home about this!"

Lucy went to object, but Shaun rose, and Desmond couldn't help but liken him to a king who had made his final decision.

"Lie back down this instant, Desmond Miles! We are going to record the very foundation of the Christian religion!"

Desmond was wide-eyed as Shaun pointed a finger at him. "But I can't sync well—"

"I don't care! In you go! Time's ticking away, and we have history to discover! Just think! A line of assassins related to Gabriel the Archangel! Bloody Hell, I'll even shut up if you do this for me."

Desmond raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And be nice for once?"

"And be nice for—now that's asking for an awful lot."

He grinned at Shaun, who was scowling. "It's your choice. Be nice to all of us, or miss out on your precious history."

His grin grew as he saw Shaun seriously consider both options. Then, with a frustrated grunt, Shaun sat down. "Fine. Lie back down."

He started to when he heard, "Please."

He laughed as he was plugged back in. True to his word, Shaun was silent the entire time as they jumped through faulty memories. The absolute silence helped him concentrate on staying synced with the memory. He spent a long time in the Animus, reliving everything that he could. Gabriel was everywhere—watching over the Israelites in Egypt, revealing the Qur'an to Mohammad, and surrounded by children at every step. They went forward and backward in time, trying to snatch all the fragments they could get. The memories were just a few minutes at the most, a moment with Mary, seconds with the Israelites, passing words with children, but he tried his best. The fact that he could even access them astounded him.

He had heard that Subject 16 was insane before he could tap into Adam and Eve.

By the end of fourteen hours in the Animus, Desmond had a major headache. It was too much. He desynced with a groan, grabbing his head and rocking forward.

"Okay there, Desmond?"

It sounded so weird coming from Shaun.

"My head hurts."

"You were concentrating awfully hard. I remember how bad 16 was when he started bleeding Adam."

Desmond grunted, and he felt Rebecca press two pills and a bottle of water against his lips.

"Are those legal?" Shaun asked.

"Um… maybe. Just open up, Des. You're headache will be gone in no time."

He took them without question.

It was two more days before he woke up. He had had vague dreams about seeing Jesus' crucifixion, and he felt unbelievably pained. He dreamt of a curtain tearing, and the priests going nuts. He dreamt of sadness and watching the world grow further apart. He sat up groggily, shaking his head. He could feel the weight of the wings on his back, and he squirmed. The feathers were messed and uncomfortable. He felt like he had been wing-violated. He probably had.

"Thank God you're awake. I thought Rebecca bloody well killed you."

He looked at Shaun as his stomach rumbled loudly. He blinked.

"You were asleep for forty-eight hours, mate."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"With your wings out."

"Fuck!"

"Well, we were tempted to, but we settled for just touching."

Desmond scowled at Shaun, who was smirking.

"You're really quite molestable when you're out cold. Almost cute, there, angel boy."

Desmond snarled, causing Shaun to laugh as Rebecca entered. "Aw, damn. He's awake. I guess we oughta brush his wings now."

He barred his teeth at Rebecca, who stepped back and held her hands up defensively. "We got some answers for you."

He snarled as Lucy entered with a brush and sat behind him, not letting him object as she started brushing his wings gently. The rage flowing through his system kept him on the edge.

"Sorry, Desmond. But we're human, and humans succumb to temptation. Especially in the form of—"

"Shut the fuck up. I can't believe you guys."

"Hey," Rebecca said, "we're sorry. We got you some cookie dough, though."

Desmond's snarl lessened to a scowl as Shaun rose, came over, and began brushing the other wing. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip and double fudge."

His scowl turned into a frown.

"Forgiven?" Rebecca asked.

"I don't know yet."

"He's not that angelic," Shaun said casually. "But, while Rebecca gets you your cookie dough, we got an answer to your question about Jesus the Templar."

"Really now?" he growled.

"Jesus' death was what split the assassins from the Templars, just as the curtain ripped in half in the temple."

"So it wasn't a hazy dream."

"No, it was the Animus."

When he saw the tube of double fudge cookie dough, his eyes lit up, and his wings flapped wildly, earning several curses and yelps from Lucy and Shaun. After he had it in his hands—after Rebecca was done watching the others get thwaped by his massive wings—they scowled.

"I have feathers in my hair," Lucy said.

"I think you look sexy," Rebecca said as she sat in front of Desmond. "Forgiven?"

He nodded as he tore off a bit of cookie dough and popped it in his mouth. "Yeah."

He offered her some, and then to Lucy and Shaun, and by the time they were done brushing his wings, he was squirming with pleasure as he chewed on the dough. He could hear Lucy getting a kick out of petting his wings, and Shaun was having fun kissing the base of his wings to startle him so he could snatch pieces of the dough. Rebecca was lying in front of them, watching the whole thing and laughing when Shaun would steal another piece. Desmond fed pieces to Rebecca between squirms, and she eventually settled with her head in his lap, toying with a feather Lucy pulled out of her hair.

"So, you're really an angel, then?"

"I don't know."

"I like that idea. And I like your wings, despite how freaky it is."

"I'm glad."

"Do you think you'll eventually fly?"

"I don't really know."

"Imagine how kinky bedtime will be!"

He froze, and he could hear a pleased noise from both Lucy and Shaun. Desmond folded his wings around himself before making them vanish completely, and he felt Lucy press up against his back.

"Come on now, Desmond," she purred, "it'll be fun."

He choked on the piece of cookie dough in his mouth, coughing into his hand as Rebecca sat up, turned around, and grinned as she straddled him. He could feel himself blushing, and jerked when a finger lightly ran along the place his wing came out of. He felt Shaun's tongue on his ear.

"Why don't you let us have some more fun and put your wings out again, angel boy?"

The name went straight to his groin as he swallowed and set the cookie dough aside, looking around hesitantly at the three expectant faces. "Are you sure—"

"We like new partners," Rebecca chirped. "Keeps things… interesting!"

"And with your abilities, both the wings and Ezio's sexual prowess," Shaun rumbled into his ear.

"We've got high expectations for you," Lucy finished.

His eyes widened when Rebecca kissed him, and he reluctantly let his wings out again.

He decided that was the best decision of his life as he lay there later on, sated and out of breath, on his stomach with his wings stretched out over his partners in their bed of sleeping bags. Lucy was nestled against one side, and Shaun on the other. Rebecca was lying on his back, and he wasn't going to object—he had suggested she do so. The pressure, in combination with the soft stroking from Shaun and Lucy and Rebecca's breathing against the base of one of his wings, was nice.

"That," Shaun said, "was incredible."

"Hell yeah," Rebecca uttered, stretching her arms over her head and letting them dangle.

Desmond kissed her arm, and he felt her smile against his back. Their legs were all tangled together in one giant mess in the zipped together sleeping bags, and he smiled. Lucy pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and he hummed.

"I think we made the right decision letting him join in," Lucy said.

"Of course we did. Even without the wings—he woulda been good for just fucking. Man, he is hot shit."

Desmond chuckled. "Thanks, Rebecca."

"Naw, man, it's the truth."

He almost felt like their guardian angel as he dozed in and out that night while they slept. He listened to the sound of the night as his partners' breath ruffled the feathers, and Rebecca's weight felt nice against the wings. He wondered briefly if that was what Heaven felt like.

Over the next few days, he began to enjoy the wings. He loved the grooming sessions particularly, once at night and once in the morning. It probably would've helped more, though, if the others didn't get continually distracted by the feathers. He supposed, however, that part of the well-groomedness came from their attention to the feathers. They would gently pull out the mangled ones—because he did enjoy jumping from buildings, and he didn't always land well—and it hurt like Hell because his wings were so sensitive, but when their fingers would rub the areas around it, it wasn't as bad. His wings were large and full, out as much as possible since there was no one around beside the four of them.

Desmond gasped, his back arching up and his toes curling as he was waken. His eyes fluttered closed, and he groaned as he pushed back against the hand scratching at the base of the wings. He moaned when whoever's fingers they were pushed hard against the skin and scratched. His hands fisted in sleeping bag. He was on his hands and knees, his body arching into the touch. He gasped and practically mewed when those fingers moved to the bottom of the wing.

"This feels good?"

He groaned and nodded in response to the British man.

"You'd think he's a porn star with the way he's acting," he heard Lucy say.

He could hear the man smile, and pleasure pooled in his groin when both of the man's hands started scratching the base of the wings.

"Well now," he heard Shaun say as the man repositioned himself in between his legs, "looks like it is extraordinarily pleasurable to him."

He felt a tongue replace one of the hands, and he stilled, his eyes opened wide. It licked a warm path around the base, and his swallowed thickly, jerking his hips when the second hand went to cup his erection.

"D-don't stop," he whispered and licked his lips, twitching, tensing, and jerking as the tongue continued.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself as the incredible sensation trickled through all of his body and built in his groin.

"G-God…"

He arched and cried out when a second pair of lips touched the other wing. He felt Shaun move one leg aside and a different leg nestle between his legs, one hand from each person wrapped around his waist. It was almost too much.

Shaun paused to murmur something to Lucy, and he whined at the murmur against his skin. Lucy chuckled quietly and agreed before they both kissed the bases of his wings—and hummed. Desmond's eyes flew wide open, and he jerked disjointedly as he came. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was trembling as he tried to gather himself. He collapsed, boneless and completely spent.

"That was fun," Shaun said.

"We should do it again."

"N-no…" he managed to whisper.

"No?" he heard Shaun say. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."

"Too much," he breathed, and he heard Lucy laugh.

"Then why don't we have some fun while we let Desmond recover?" Lucy suggested.

Desmond was out before they started.


End file.
